


Solace

by doortotomorrow



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Crying, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, sexual healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doortotomorrow/pseuds/doortotomorrow
Summary: In the aftermath of the chaos wreaked in Sanctum's beating heart, an emotionally confused Emori seeks out some much needed comfort in John Murphy, hoping to find clarity in his arms.
Relationships: Emori & John Murphy (The 100), Emori/John Murphy (The 100)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Place in the Timeline - Right after the sixth season finale

Sometimes, on the rarest of occasion, Emori was halfway grateful for her unimaginably difficult upbringing as an abandoned child, for it made her efficient with so many skills. Thievery? Peerless. The art of grifting? A savant. Emotional manipulation? If they were still handing out trophies for performance, every stalagmite in her caves would have had golden statues resting on top of them by how masterful she was in captivating people's imaginations...and today? The skill she was most grateful for was the ability to make herself scarce. 

After a whole night of having herself being identified and gawked at in all of her Prime finery, Emori desired only solitude and a moment to grab onto some much earned peace. The pageantry was long over and all of the artifice she had wrapped herself up in had begun to fall apart. In the midst of last night's chaos, the delicate silver chains attached to her hair had tangled themselves deep into her mane, and Emori had no idea how to extract them without ripping out most of her hair. The makeup applied to her face had started to get smudged, and the heels she wore left her nursing a few blisters on her feet...the fairy tale was over and real life had reared its hideous head. 

Emori moved through the palace undetected, weaving a path through one hallway to the next before settling for the most unused room she could find: a storage room.

It wasn't a large one, either. Emori's eyes cataloged an old, beaten up, wooden desk planted in the corner next to the furthest wall below a pale, pastel red window with a couple of small chairs beside it. There were also some small metal boxes containing clothes to the left of her, and a bookshelf to the right. Wanting to scratch the curiosity off of her skin, Emori took a quick look through the shelf and found the selection depressing. The shelf was nearly barren, only carrying a halfway finished set of encyclopedias and a dictionary. 

Emori felt an odd sense of empathy for the bookshelf for the sight of it was a physical embodiment of what she was going through. She wasn't all there in her mind. Emori took the dictionary with her as she eased herself down on one of the chairs and begun to search up definitions of random words in a bid to transport the rest of her mind someplace else.

Emori's finger landed, on all words: 

Sanctum : a sacred place. 

Emori huffed in abject disgust and snarled, baring her teeth in indignation. She predicted this place was too good to be true and lo and behold, she was right. Emori appreciated being correct on her hunches, but this time? This time was the first where she would've been okay with being proven wrong. Emori went back to the near beginning of the book and flipped through the letter B, and there, ironically bathed in red light was the word: 

Blood : the red liquid that circulates in the arteries and veins of humans and other vertebrate animals, carrying oxygen to and carbon dioxide from the tissues of the body. 

Emori's focus shifted to the big vein on her left wrist and her heart sank low inside her chest. Yes, the procedure was successful, yes, she still drew breath, but something inside of her had been forever altered. For the rest of her life, her blood would run the colour of ink, not red. Wrapping her head around this was going to take some time and Emori wasn't sure how long the period of adjustment would last. Emori closed the book and sat there in silence until the quiet became unbearable for her. 

“Whoever wrote this dictionary needs to do some revisions,” Emori muttered to herself as she dropped the brick sized book onto the table in front of her with a large 'thunk', getting up from the chair and making her departure from the sombre, almost tomb-like storage room. The emotional sauce simmering in her body was reaching the boiling point and Emori needed something, anything to remove the lid before it made a huge mess she'd have to clean up. 

Emori made her way out into the courtyard and spotted Echo making small talk with Gaia and Miller. She bounded her way up to her sister, cutting into her conversation and asked, “have any idea where John might be?”

“He was here a moment ago getting something to eat but he's heading back to your room to catch a few more hours of sleep,” Echo replied and immediately grabbed Emori by the arm before she had the chance to walk away and fell under Echo's intense, scrutinous glare, “you should rest up, too. Don't let them take advantage of any kind of weaknesses,” Echo advised, her voice barely registering above a whisper. Echo's fingers favoured the grip of her bow, still reeling from her hellish hours of being Ryker's prisoner.

“Fair point. Don't worry,” Emori patted the side of her thigh, indicating the presence of a hidden weapon, “I have myself armed at all times...and take your own advice.”

The pair exchanged a few affirmative nods before Emori resumed her search for John. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Murphy devoured the last remnants of his savory pastry, licking the minuscule crumbs off of his fingertips and chased it down with a glass of cider, appreciating the flavors. Holy fuck, did that ever satiate his hunger. Stomach now full and mood significantly improved, he set his emptied glass onto the end table and busied himself by removing his black silk waistcoat and threw it behind him onto the bed, and his neck tie followed soon after. Murphy balanced himself on one foot and then the other, hopping a bit as he removed his tarnished dress shoes off his feet. Murphy let out a gargantuan yawn and ran a hand through his short cropped hair, stopping at the nape of his neck and traced his index finger up and down the fresh scar where his mind drive was housed underneath his skin. In all of yesterday's commotion, it nearly slipped from his thoughts. In the blink of an eye, a deluge of questions over whether or not it was the right call flooded into his brain, robbing him of whatever good mood his breakfast provided for him and now all Murphy could feel was cold. 

Murphy sniffed, hand reaching up to wipe his nose with the edge of his sleeve while he sat at the edge of the bed and gazed out the window, hoping the light pouring in would warm the chill settling into his bones. 

A familiar, careful rhythm of footsteps beckoned him away from contemplating too hard on his most recent moral dilemma as Emori opened up the door. Her mere presence was enough to significantly raise his morale, helping to regain his lost warmth and then some.

“There you are...I was wonderin' where you went off to,” Murphy murmured, smiling sweetly up at her.

“Needed to get out of sight for a bit on my own. I'm not used to having so many eyes on me at once,” Emori explained as she yanked off her satiny blue formal glove, moving her fused digits around a little to give them a good stretch. Sitting beside him, Emori tilted her head off to the side and asked, “could you do me a favour?”

“Sure,” Murphy replied.

“Could you get these chains out of my hair? They're tangled up in my hair, and I've tried getting them out myself, but I think I just made it worse,” Emori whined a little, wrinkling her brow in annoyance.

“Of course,” Murphy hummed, hands brushing up against her soft, sun kissed skin as he reached into the gnarled mess of hair to extract the silver accessory. Emori's eyes glazed over, desire channeling throughout her body at his touch. Emori, emboldened, placed her hand on Murphy's thigh, giving it a tender squeeze...and then again, and again, and again. Murphy's jaw went slack and tried as best as he could to keep his hands steady. Despite her deep massaging, Murphy was successful at extracting the troublesome chains. Emori sighed in grateful relief, sending her hand inwards towards his inner thigh, squeezing him harder.

“And the necklace? John...please,” Emori whimpered.

Murphy nodded with a slurred, 'uh-huh', turning his attention to the clasp at the back of Emori's neck. Emori licked her lips and let her hand sail upwards to the bulge in Murphy's dress pants the moment she felt the necklace fall from her neck. Murphy's head lolled to the side and cursed under his breath, allowing a shameless smirk to rise up on his face. Emori, without much warning, grabbed him by the shoulders and climbed into his lap, digging her hand into his collar.

“Anythin' else you need me to do for ya?” Murphy panted.

Emori writhed hard onto his cock, encouraging it into an erection and leaned forward to capture his mouth in a potent, needy, searing kiss. Emori tore away from the kiss, needing to breathe, but Murphy continued to plant sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss all over her neck. Emori pressed her body flush up against his, crying, “make me forget about everything! I want to forget!”

Murphy's heart was torn asunder at Emori's agonized cries and wordlessly, he heeded her commands. Murphy rolled Emori over, placed her on her back, hiked up her dress, unbuckled her concealed knife holster, and just about ripped her panties off of her. Emori's eyeliner and mascara smeared down her face, tears streaming from her eyes, urgent in her demand for comfort. She wanted his hands plastered all over her body, she wanted him to make her feel something other than whatever confused emotions she was experiencing, she wanted the endorphin rush only his sex could give, she wanted, she wanted, oh fuck, she just wanted period.

“I'll make it better, Emori...let me make it better,” Murphy said, parting his lips as he dove in between her legs, getting to work on finding her sweet spot. Emori shut her eyes and let the world fade away, giving him control, and completely escaping into her arousal. Murphy lathered up her pussy with saliva, flattening his tongue into a disc shape, and in the most tender manner, spread open her legs so he could delve deeper inside her. Emori's hand shook as she wiped away her tears, not giving one iota of a fuck if her fingertips stained the sheets with leftover mascara when she gripped tightly onto the fabric for dear life. Murphy wrapped his arms around her legs, locking her in place as he changed the shape of his tongue from a disc and into a point to flick at her clit. Emori's breath caught in her throat and a raspy moan seeped out of her mouth, placing her badass hand on top of Murphy's head. Murphy's tongue circled round Emori's clit, coaxing out one beautiful noise from her after another. He couldn't help but feel a burst of pride knowing he could make her sound like that, and he wanted more of it. He wanted to make her sing, but this? Just this wouldn't do. His cock would take care of the rest. Murphy untangled his arms from around her thighs and Emori howled in protest.

“Don't stop, please!” Emori wept.

Soft laughter rumbled through Murphy's chest while his hand made swift work on stripping himself of his dress pants, getting rid of the belt, and exposing his rock hard cock. 

Emori gazed down at it in voracious hunger.

“I want it, John...I need it inside me,” Emori mewled, wriggling the rest of the way out of her dress, and on the verge of going feral. 

“What my woman wants,” Murphy started, inserting his cock into Emori's drenched pussy and letting out a hiss, “my woman gets.”

Much like a train, Murphy started chugging his hips back and forth, faster and faster, and Emori arched her back in response, pressing the top of her head deep into the mattress beneath her. Emori was practically rapturous, mind completely wiped of everything and anything else...there was nothing else but the two of them healing each other with their bodies, sweating out the toxins and cleansing themselves. Murphy, desiring more leverage, took Emori's left leg and hoisted it up onto his shoulder, hammering himself hilt deep into her pussy. Emori's mouth flew open wide, hands twining themselves to the headboard to keep herself tethered to the bed, barely able to think straight. 

“John...you're gonna make me cum! I'm gonna cum!”

“Gettin' there, Em...I can feel it! Hold on tight!”

Murphy's thrusts became stronger and more powerful, getting the headboard banging hard against the wall and the bed squeaking along with the sound of his balls slapping Emori's skin. His eyes kept their focus on Emori's gorgeous, euphoric expression, and he just about cried in reverence.

“Har-harder, John! Make me cum!” Emori pleaded.

Adrenaline surged through Murphy's system as he bore down and pinned Emori to the bed, gritting his teeth, and going full on. He was gonna make a mess inside of her when they'd climax.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Emori's pussy quivered around Murphy's cock, and an explosion of stars burst in front of her eyes as her orgasm jolted throughout her entire body, turning her into a trembling leaf.

“Let me cum inside you, Em.”

Emori, completely blissed out of her mind and out of breath, offered him a lazy nod of approval, and Murphy continued to pump his cock into her pussy.

“Fuck...oh, fuck,” Murphy moaned and planted his hand onto her chest, squeezing Emori's breast, and not a second later, his release arrived. Closing his eyes in the moment, he swore he saw paradise. They were exhausted and were a complete mess with all of the splotchy, sweat diluted makeup on their faces, but they didn't give a fuck about it. Murphy came down with a case of clumsiness and collapsed on top of Emori. Emori tenderly stroked the back of his head, whimpering at Murphy licking one of her breasts.

“Did it help?” Murphy mumbled.

“Mmhmm...now let's sleep,” Emori yawned.

“Okay...sleep now, deal with trauma later.”


End file.
